


2025/2035

by Anonymous



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “You have to let me drift with him.”The words leave Hermann's mouth in one pressured breath, strong and unwavering.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Uprising and desperately needed to make everything better. This will be a multichapter--I think it might end up being in the 15k-25k word range? Anyway, tell me what you think!

2025

 

The second the breach closes, cheers erupt inside the Hong Kong Shatterdome, echoing throughout every city across the Pacific coasts.

 

“We did it. _We_ did it, Hermann, we saved the world,” Newt blurts out, his speech sounding utterly manic yet completely drained.

 

Hermann smiles. “The Jaeger pilots may have had something to do with it—”

 

“Shut _up_ , Hermann, we're rockstars,” Newt interrupts, bringing Hermann into a tight hug. Hermann awkwardly pats Newt on the back, unsure what to do, despite being in this man's head an hour prior.

 

Newt laughs. “Hug me back, you dick,” he half-whispers into Hermann's ear.

 

Hermann wraps his arms around Newt, and they stay there, swaying, basking in the warmth of their victory, the celebration loud around them.

 

–

2035

 

“You have to let me drift with him.”

 

The words leave Hermann's mouth in one pressured breath, strong and unwavering.

 

“We can't allow that,” says Nate Lambert, the man left in charge of the entire damned PPDC by virtue of everyone else better qualified being dead (and Jake Pentecost refusing to take the top spot, citing Nate's longer tenure with the PPDC—but more likely, fear of not living up to his father's reputation). “Too dangerous. The Precursors could get into your head—”

 

“I drifted with Newton and a Kaiju brain ten years ago,” Hermann scoffs, “Not that you'd remember, considering you were a bratty little cadet with your head so far up your own arse—” Hermann stops himself, hand gripping his cane so hard his knuckles crack. He takes a deep breath. “If the Precursors could reach me, they would have already. Newton has had, as far as I can surmise, prolonged and _daily_ drift with a Kaiju brain for years. I have not.”

 

“Still not a risk we should take,” Nate replies, crossing his arms against his chest.

 

“I've gotta agree with Nate, here,” Jake says in as he enters the room, stopping briefly to pat his co-pilot on the shoulder. “Sorry, Hermann. I know you and Newt were close during the war, but that's not Newt.” He jerks his head towards the holding cell door—hermetically sealed, soundproof, and in Hermann's opinion, utterly excessive.

 

“It _is_ him,” Hermann growls under his breath as he storms away. “I know he's in there.”

 

–

2025

 

The celebration is still going strong when they pull away from the chaos and amble down the hallways of the Shatterdome towards their lab. Hermann has a splitting headache, his hip is killing him, and yet he's never felt this good in his life.

 

Hermann is about to voice this when he sees Newt limping next to him.

 

“Fuck, man,” Newt laughs, rubbing his hand up and down the top of his leg, the same place where Hermann is feeling the most pain. “The pilots weren't lying about ghost-drift. Does it hurt this bad all the time?”

 

“It's particularly severe today,” Hermann mumbles. “Sorry.”

 

“Nah, it's good, dude,” Newt grins. “I mean, wow. Ghost drifting. This is _so_ cool.”

 

Hermann opens the doors to their lab, which is blissfully quiet in addition to being a total mess. They make a beeline for a ragged couch in the far corner, sagging against the cushions in perfect sync. Hermann rifles through his pocket and procures a small bottle of extra-strength ibuprofen. He knocks two back, swallowing them dry before handing the bottle to Newt. He gladly takes two himself.

 

“Thanks, man,” Newt says. “I wonder how long this'll last. The ghost drift, I mean, not the hip. Though that'd also be cool to know.”

 

Hermann takes the pill bottle from Hermann and sticks it back in his pocket. “The hip usually lets up slightly once I'm off of my feet for the night. And according to the pilots, anywhere from a few hours to a few days.”

 

Newt's face lights up. “Wait. So if I can feel your pain for the next god-knows-how-long, I wonder if you could feel my, uh, pleasure. Specifically, I really need to jerk off.”

 

“ _Newton_ ,” Hermann groans, rolling his eyes.

 

“I mean, if I'm feeling what you're feeling, you've gotta be feelin' what I'm feeling. I just,” Newt gestures down to the crotch of his too-tight pants. “I've kinda been half-hard since we drifted. I'm not _not_ gonna jerk off.”

 

Hermann breathes in loudly. “Doctor Geiszler, can we _not_ discuss your penis right now?”

 

“What, we're not gonna mention the elephant in the room? I mean, not that my dick's an elephant, I'm like sorta above average, uh, I mean—you can't tell me you didn't see what I saw in the drift.” Newt's face turns bright red, nearly the same shade as the bloody ring of vessels around his iris.

 

Hermann coughs. “The alien race wishing to destroy us all and colonize our planet?”

 

“Hermann, I know you're like, allergic to feelings, but—” Newt starts, turning to face Hermann, eyes wide open and desperate. He bites his lip. “I know what I saw.”

 

Hermann feels his heart race against his chest. He feebly reaches out with trembling fingers and sets his palm against the top of Newt's hand.

 

They sit there for an aching minute.

 

“Oh, fuck it,” Newt mutters as he grabs Hermann by the shoulders and slots their lips together.

 

–

 

2035

 

Hermann's quarters are in total disarray. Ever since he drifted with Newt all those years ago, he finds himself picking up a lot of his bad habits. It is a small price to pay for the wealth of knowledge he gained in the field of biology—he never had the knack for it before. Hermann had been strictly a numbers man, wary of the unknowns that came with living organisms. Those same mysteries of biology were what thrilled Newt. In the past few years especially, Hermann had itched for Newt's help in the lab—not the drift echoes left in Hermann's head, but the brilliant man himself, the hyperactive, hyper-focused, hypomanic man who never failed to challenge Hermann's theses, and made him a better scientist.

 

Hermann shoves dirty laundry off of his bunk and kicks off his shoes before sinking into the bed. He stares at the ceiling, illuminated slightly by the sickly blue light of his clock radio.

 

A quiet sob works its way up his throat.

 


	2. Chapter 2

2025

 

“We shouldn't be doing this here,” Hermann murmurs against Newt's neck between breaths.

 

“My bunk is a mess, dude,” Newt rasps, tugging up Hermann's shirt to lay his hands on the warm skin beneath. Hermann shivers.

 

“Mine, then,” Hermann replies.

 

Newt grins. “Think we can make it over there?”

 

“My hip's feeling better—”

 

Newt shakes his head. “Nah, I mean d'y'think we can make it all the way there before I stop and just blow you in the hallway?”

 

Hermann has never grabbed his cane so quickly in his life.

 

–

 

2035

 

“It's a sandwich. The man needs to eat,” Hermann nearly growls, shaking a brown paper bag.

 

“Alright, Doctor Gottlieb,” comes the timid reply from the cadet guarding the holding cell.

 

Hermann punches in the unlock code and the door hisses as it opens. He quickly shuts it behind him.

The room is bare save for an uncomfortable-looking bunk, a sink, and a toilet in the corner. Hermann frowns.

 

Newt does not respond to Hermann’s entrance. He sits on the floor, back pressed against the wall. Bright tattoos strike a stark contrast against gray, standard-issue PPDC hospital scrubs.

 

Hermann procures the sandwich from the paper bag and holds it in front of Newt. “I brought you a sandwich.”

 

Newt’s eyes widen. He grabs the sandwich and takes an eager bite.

 

Hermann clears his throat awkwardly. “You're not going to choke me to death today?” He asks.

 

Newt shakes his head but doesn’t verbalize an answer. His hands tremble as he holds the sandwich. His foot angrily taps on the ground. At closer inspection, his eyes are bloodshot. The pitiful wool blanket atop his bunk is unruffled. He clearly isn't sleeping.

 

If this were... before, Hermann would gently ask Newt if he'd been taking his quetiapine. This is not before. There is no protocol for this. Hermann doesn't even know who is in control right now—Newt or the Precursors. But he knows that Newt is listening regardless.

 

He has known since Newt's hands let up on his throat, just for a moment, a desperate sob— _“I'm sorry, Hermann, they're in my head—”_

 

“You used the wrong jelly,” Newt mumbles, bringing Hermann out of his thoughts.

 

Hermann bites his lip to fight a smile. “First of all, it's jam, not jelly, jelly is the wobbly rubbish that comes in plastic cups. And I’m sorry it’s not strawberry. It's all they had in the mess hall. My apologies.”

 

Newt shrugs. “S’okay,” he says, mouth full.

 

Hermann sighs.

 

–

 

2025

 

By some miracle, they manage to stumble from the lab to Hermann’s bunk without either of them committing an act of public indecency. But as soon as the door shuts, all bets—and clothes—are off. Instead of undressing each other, they sit on the edge of Hermann’s bunk and tear off their own clothing as quickly as possible.

 

Hermann pauses midway through unbuttoning his shirt to ogle at Newt’s bare chest. His intricate tattoos span all the way from the bottom of his neck to the top of his pelvis. He may find the subject matter a bit odd, but the tattoos are _beautiful_ , and Hermann cannot imagine Newt without them.

 

Newt lets out a nervous giggle as he wiggles his pants down his legs. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen me naked before,” he says.

 

“It’s not like I made a habit of ogling you in the communal showers,” Hermann says with an eye roll, shrugging off his shirt to land on the ground somewhere near his sweater.

 

Newt licks his lips. “Uh, well, I can’t say the same, dude. You have a gorgeous butt.”

 

“ _Newton_!”

 

“Oh my _god_ , Hermann, it was like, one time.” Newt licks his lips. “Okay, maybe more than one. Will you still let me blow you?”

 

Hermann’s eyes widen. Any remaining frustration with Newt flies out the window as Hermann claws at his pants with renewed fervor.

 

When they’re both utterly, blissfully naked, Newt gently pushes on Hermann’s shoulders. “Lie back and think of England,” he says, voice dripping with mock-sensuality.

 

“Do you _ever_ shut up,” Hermann laughs, his heart warm and full of affection for this impossible, inscrutable, incredible man.

 

“Not unless there’s a dick in my mouth,” Newt quips, kissing down Hermann’s body.

 

“If only I had known that was the answer all these years,” Hermann says, breath trembling as Newt’s mouth inches lower and lower—

 

When Newt’s mouth is finally around him, taking his cock down nearly to the hilt, Hermann sees stars burst behind his eyelids. The pleasure is so intense he forgets to breathe—he can _feel_ Newt feeling _him_ , can feel the drag of cheap cotton sheets rubbing against Newt’s dick as he grinds into the sheets, like a short-circuiting feedback loop of bliss, and suddenly he’s coming and Newt’s coming and he chokes at the come in the back of his throat— _Newt’s throat_ —can feel the wet spot on the sheets and his toes tightly curled and his brain being brought back to earth.

 

Newt wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Holy _shit_ ,” he says, “I was gonna apologize for coming so fast but if that was half as good for you as it was for me—”

 

Hermann tugs at Newt’s hair. “Get up here and kiss me.”

 

“Yessir,” Newt replies, crawling up the bunk and pressing his lips to Hermann’s.

 

Hermann wants to live inside this moment forever.

 

–

 

2035

 

Hermann wants to crawl inside a hole and never emerge.

 

However, he does not have that luxury.

He pores over every research paper he can find about brain chemistry, brain damage, memory, infections, inflammation, seizures, effects of solo drifting, combat drifting, ghost drifting, drift training, drift _everything_. Scrutinizes his drift with Newt ten years ago, combs through every glance at the Precursors he can remember, looking for any sense of direction, any shred of an idea of how to bring Newt back to him.

 

He’s in there. He can feel it. Can sense it in his very core. Newt had been there yesterday, in the flicker of his eyes when he bit into his favorite sandwich with his least favorite jam.

 

The human sensation of taste brought Newt back for a moment. Perhaps focusing on the senses, the _human_ senses, is what will separate Newt from the Precursors.

 

Hermann had saved the world. Twice. Surely he can save one man.

 

He can only hope this to be true.


End file.
